


sing to me (sweet honey o' mine)

by spooki_rat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brief mention of arousal, Character Study, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Akaashi Keiji, Nonbinary Character, POV Kuroo Tetsurou, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, but no sexy times, iswear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooki_rat/pseuds/spooki_rat
Summary: Tetsurou thinks he might be the happiest when Tsukki finally moves in. A whole four and a half years of being together, and then a whole three years of living without him in an apartment;  he was almost desperate to wake up to the blonde every morning.This isn’t to say that Bokuto and Akaashi aren’t happy. It’s just that they went through two years of highschool together, and then started dating way before the four of them even talked about a relationship.They have an ease with each other that Tetsurou envies, and they go to the same university so they spend way more time with each other than they do with Tetsurou; he just feels a bit left behind.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 14
Kudos: 217





	sing to me (sweet honey o' mine)

**Author's Note:**

> i'll die on this ship
> 
> no beta so if there are any mistakes.... sorry

Tetsurou thinks he might be the happiest when Tsukki finally moves in. A whole four and a half years of being together, and then a whole three years of living without him in an apartment; he was almost _desperate_ to wake up to the grumpy blonde every morning. 

This isn’t to say that Bokuto and Akaashi _aren’t_ happy. It’s just that they went through two years of high school together, and then started dating way before the four of them even talked about a relationship. 

They have an ease with each other that Tetsurou envies, and they go to the same university so they spend way more time with each other than they do with Tetsurou; he just feels a bit left behind.  
  
They don’t leave him out or anything, still curling around and into him at night, but it’s still present in the subtlety practiced art they’ve perfected as they move around each other. It’s in the sudden uncontrolled laughter that only Bokuto can pull out of Akaashi when they’re having a particularly good day. 

It’s in the way they can tease each other, and already know what boundaries they can’t push. 

It’s in the softest of kisses Akaashi gives Bokuto when he's having a bad day, just the tiniest brush of lips, neither one of them even bothering to close their eyes.

Or in the soft wistful look Bokuto gets when he wakes up first and can watch Akaashi sleeping- the only time Bokuto is fully still and fully quiet. 

He’s sure he is also loved like this when he’s not looking, but sometimes the little things worm past Tetsurou’s barriers and take root in his heart. Small ice shards that grow and choke him on nights he’s alone in their bed, the other two out late. 

He knows it's ridiculous, but he gets caught up in his head sometimes, overthinking a problem until it becomes a truth.

So when Tsukishima moves in, he finally has someone to go to when he sees the way Akaashi and Bokuto look into each other's eyes like their lost, and the other one is their beacon. 

For a while it’s perfect. They scoff at their owl’s together, pulling their attention away from each other and back to the four of them. Or, they just let it happen, and move to another room to make out themselves, or Tetsurou will follow Tsukki into the kitchen to pretend to be helpful while Tsukki cooks for them.

For a while, the small insecurities don’t choke Tetsurou up when he has a moment to himself. 

Until they come back with a vengeance.

Tsukishima starts disappearing more and more. His university is the farthest away from their apartment so he’s gone for his morning classes before the other three wake up; and then for some reason or another, he's out way past the time the other three go to bed. 

For a few months, all they get is a few hours with him on weekends and when questioned, all he says is that he's “working on a project”.

Tetsurou can feel himself panicking, can feel himself also pulling away, and he starts spending more and more time in the library. His grades thank him, but his relationship and his anxiety do not.

He hates this part of himself, curses it whenever it shows up and he can’t concentrate on the words in front of him. He doesn’t want to get left alone, because he knows that if Tsukki breaks up with them, he won’t be far behind; Bokuto and Akaashi will _always_ have each other, and he doesn’t want to let himself get _hurt_ \- 

So he chokes those feelings down, focuses instead on the words in front of him and not the metaphorical hand that is always squeezing his chest.

It’s almost the end of the semester when one of them breaks. 

Surprisingly, it’s Akaashi. His bet was on Bokuto, never one to hide his emotions, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Akaashi is the first to crack.

It happens in one of the few hours they see Tsukishima on a Saturday morning, before both of them disappear to _wherever_ , and it's in the form of a snide comment. Bokuto says they should do something, and Tsukishima replies with his usual “sorry, I’m busy”.

Tetsurou doesn’t even remember what Akaashi says, but it's something cutting and mean and the rest of them sit there in black shock. Akaashi seems shocked as well, and the silence is heavy and deafening as they piece themselves back together in front of their eyes. 

And then they’re gone. 

Moving as fast as they do on the volleyball court, they’re out of the room and then out of the apartment before any of them can blink. Bokuto looks at both of them in distress, obviously aching to run after Akaashi but always the worrier for all of their moods. 

“Go,” Tetsurou finally says, gripping the edge of the table and staring at the top of it with an intensity he hasn’t felt since the end of the Battle at the Garbage Dump, the inexplicable urge to _move_.

Bokuto takes off, bolting out of the apartment so fast he doesn’t even close the door, and it ricochets off the wall with a sound like a clap of thunder, shaking both Tsukishima and Tetsurou out of their shocked stupors. 

“I-I.. I’m uh… I’m going to be late,” Tsukishima’s hands shake as he stands and presses his glasses up his nose, eyes glazed over and obviously distraught. He makes it to their bedroom to pick up his jacket and bag, and he’s passing the dining room doorway before Tetsurou finds his voice.

“They're right, Tsukishima,” he sees the blond flinch at the use of his full name, but he can’t find it in himself to feel bad right now, sitting there and hiding his reaction behind a stoic mask, “You can’t very well be in a relationship if you never see or communicate with the people you’re _supposed_ to be in a relationship with.”

He can’t tell at the moment if its mean of him, or if it needed to be said, but the words slip out from between his lips without a conscious order from his brain. He also doesn’t know if it has the desired effect, because he doesn’t know _what_ he desires, but Tsukishima still hunches in on himself like he’s preparing for a physical blow. Tetsurou sees him take a trembling breath, a small nod the only outward acknowledgement of his words, and then Tsukishima is gone as well.

Tetsurou is once again alone, left in the wake of a storm and weathering it by himself.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there at the dining room table, thoughts spiraling, chest heaving, but finally he blinks. His eyes burn and tear up from being open for so long, just from being open- _nothing else_. He chokes back a sob as he too finally stands, he takes his trembling hands to the sink and almost drops a glass for his efforts- but he makes it. 

He sips on water and resolutely _doesn’t think_ about anything.

He decides against leaving the house today, and when he shakes too much and his eyesight starts to blur, he decides against studying and watching TV as well. 

He’s laying on their bed, over the covers, face buried in the pillow and hands down by his side when he hears the front door open- it feels like years after the last time it closed. 

Quiet conversation travels through the apartment, coming to an abrupt halt as it makes its way to the bedroom door. 

“Kuro?” it’s the voice he expected, but not the one he really wants to hear and he lets out a shaky breath. 

The door closes softly and he listens to the too quiet footsteps that move across the room to him, listens to the shift of covers as someone much lighter than who he wants to be here sits down. 

“Kuro,” this is accompanied by soft fingers threading through his hair- just how he likes- and he tries to stop his trembling (Unsuccessfully).

What he wants to do is turn around and have strong arms curl around him, he wants to press his face into a smooth and slim stomach, or wrap his own arms around long legs and lose himself between soft thighs.

Instead, he knows the owner of the fingers would hate it if he so much as moved closer, so he stays where he is, face and tears buried in a pillow that smells of strong arms and spiced aftershave. 

“Talk to me,” Kenma has moved up the bed, reclining against the headboard with his hip by Tetsurou’s head. His fingers are still combing through the back of the unruly mess, finding tangles and working them out until smooth. 

Tetsurou finally turns his face towards his friend, rolling onto his side and curling his legs up. Kenma reaches out and links their pinkies together, the limit of his physical comfort reached as he pulls back his other hand and settles it in his own lap.

Tetsurou starts in whispers, finally letting out his insecurities, his weaknesses- the fact that his own romantic partners can’t stand to deal with his damn _pity party_. The man beside him was always the one to see this side of him; late nights of their teenage years allocated to tear stained whispers between the two futons in one of their living rooms, silenced TV playing in the background. 

However, this is the first time he’s opening up about his relationship, knowing that Kenma doesn’t understand, nor does he want to. He appreciates him listening, but this isn’t what he thought living with people he was _romantically involved_ with would be like.

They talk for hours, until the sky is dark and Tetsurou’s breathing is back to normal, voice gritty and hoarse from sobbing through sentences. Finally, they fall to silence, and Kenma takes his time to form a response, while Tetsurou moves to fully lay on his back and stare at the ceiling.

“Kuro,” Tetsurou lets out a grunt and braces himself, knowing that the next words are going to be harsh and exactly what he needs to hear, “You’re being stupid.”

 _Oof. Right to the heart of things, as always_ , is what he thinks.

“Elaborate. Emotional level of a fifth grader, please,” is what he says.

“You are in a polyamorous relationship with three other men, and all of you are assholes. You can’t expect them to know what you’re thinking, you actually have to articulate it. Obviously Keiji and Koutarou know how to move around each other, they were doing it for years. I bet you and Koutarou know how to move around each other in a way that Keiji can’t even comprehend, even after just a year of living in the dorms. You’re getting impatient. I’m not sure what Kei is doing, but you all need to sit down and actually _talk_.” 

Tetsurou takes a deep breath in. Holds it. Let’s it escape with a _woosh_. 

“Yeah,” he whispers to the ceiling, gritting his teeth against the sudden tears that spring up _again_. 

“Then, I have completed my best friend duties for the month. Please only call again in an emergency,” Kenma heaves himself off the mattress with a huff, standing and shaking out his leg that most likely fell asleep.

“And you called _me_ an asshole,” Tetsurou says with a laugh, rolling over and sitting up, following Kenma out of the room and down their small hallway.

“I never implied I wasn’t one. One would have to be, having dealt with you all my life. It’s in the friend contract, didn’t you read the fine print?”

“Oh so sorry I missed the ‘Kenma has one crisis limit per year’ clause.” 

Bokuto and Akaashi are sitting together on the couch- not touching, Tetsurou notes. Both of them watch him anxiously as he sees Kenma to the door, and leans against the wall as the smaller male gets his outdoor gear on. 

“Well, _please_ don’t have another emotional crisis while it’s snowing outside and I’ll see if I can extend that to two per year. If you do before the reworking, please contact my office on the phone instead of sending a huge distraught _owl_ to pull me away from my warm cave,” Tetsurou snorts at the monotone way Kenma says this, and returns the fake-blond’s barely there smirk. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the crises to a more convenient time _for you_.”

“You better,” _that's_ not just to the light banter between them; that’s an order. He heeds the warning in those sharp gold eyes, and nods, making a silent promise of his own. 

Kenma leaves and Tetsurou deflates, leaning into the wall for support as he stares at the empty space before the door for another full minute. He breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out. 

And turns around.

Bokuto and Akaashi are watching him still, both with guarded eyes and enough space on the couch for him to settle between them, so that's what he does. He finally gives into the urge he's been fighting to wrap Bokuto’s arm around his waist and melt into that firm chest. 

Bokuto is kind enough to move with him, shuffling so he can lean against the arm of the couch and sliding himself between Tetsurou and the couch, resting his slightly taller body in the V of his spread legs. 

Akaashi moves next, slowly lowering themselves onto Tetsurou’s chest and tucking their head under his chin. Their hands move to slide under his shoulder blades, coming to rest in a place they can feel both his and Bokuto’s heartbeats. 

Neither of them ask anything of him, and its within the lack of pressure that he finds the confidence to explain. He breathes in, swallows around the lump in his throat, and quietly begins. 

Thank god for Kenma coming in and weathering Tetsurou’s emotions the first time he went through this, because he knows without the faux-blond letting him vent he would be a blubbering mess all over again.

Luckily he makes it through his explanation this time with no tears, and just a hint of a wobble in his voice. He takes comfort in running his hands down Akaashi’s spine, and feeling Bokuto’s warm chest rise and fall with his breathing. He explains his own petty feelings, the naive hope of them disappearing with the arrival of Tsukishima and his problems dealing with emotional conflict- so different from volleyball and team related conflict.

By the end, he can hear Bokuto muffling his sniffling into his own hair, and Akaashi is stiff, letting out controlled breaths into his neck.

“Sorry… it’s not your fault. I love both of you very much,” this makes Bokuto choke back a sob, his arms tightening around Tetsurou’s rib cage, “I let my own insecurities get the best of me.”

“I’m still sorry, Ku- _Tetsu_ ! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way! I love you _so so so much_ , baby! I love all of you s-so much,” Bokuto is full out crying by now, curling into the back of Tetsurou’s neck. Tetsurou feels something that was icy unfurl into a warmth that consumes his chest at the nickname, and he can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, lifting Bokuto’s knuckles to his lips to press a small kiss there to cut off the other man's indignant protest.

He lets that warmth carry him through the other hard thing he has to do, and he leans down to see the strained look in Akaashi’s eyes as they try to control their reaction. He smiles a soft smile and leans in to kiss the furrow between their brows, just a soft brush of lips over skin.

“Akaashi… what are you thinking?” he whispers into their hair, smoothing his palm down their spine.

Akaashi takes a breath and turns their face into Tetsurou’s chest. 

“I’m thinking what stupid idiots we are,” they say, interrupting themselves with a harsh and self-deprecating giggle, “I was so jealous of you and Bokuto-san’s friendship. You two can keep up with each other when Tsukishima and I need to s-slow down. And then you just _get_ Tsukishima sometimes. Bokuto-san and I have had years to practice each other yes, but you are just on the same wavelength as both of them, and I was struggling to fit myself in.”

Akaashi isn’t the type to cry on him, but he definitely feels the shudders running through them as they try and find their words. Emotions are so hard for all of them to articulate, he doesn’t know why they can’t just read each other's minds. 

Tetsurou hides a smile in the crown of Akaashi’s head, nuzzling into them with his nose and waiting for them to ground themselves again. Once they settle themselves, they all take a few minutes to breathe, which turns into an hour of just relaxing into each other and whispered sweet nothings and promises of love. 

They are all warm and drowsy, using the blanket of night to softly brainstorm what to do about Tsukishima when the answer comes to them in an unexpected freckled form.

All three of them jump when the doorbell rings out through the apartment, shattering the peace, and they have a frozen moment where they look to one another for answers. 

“Tsukishima?” 

“Why would he ring the doorbell…?”

“I might have… said something kind of mean… “ Tetsurou is met with questioning eyes, but is saved from having to answer by the doorbell ringing again. 

They all shakily rise and wander over, and are surprised by Yamaguchi standing on the other side, arms crossed and brow furrowed in frustration.

“I told Tsukki I wasn’t his damned messenger bird, but here I am- _best friend extraordinaire_ \- to tell you lot to get ready _fast_ and come with me,” he taps his foot and glares them down, just _daring_ them to question him.

After more confused glances, they decide to comply. Akaashi helps Tetsurou and Bokuto cover their red, puffy eyes with eyeliner, and Bokuto borrows a graphic t-shirt from Tetsurou when Yamaguchi berates them for trying to pull on sportswear. 

“If you told us where we were going, freckles, maybe we would be able to dress accordingly _on our own_ ,” Tetsurou snipes as he pulls off _yet another shirt_ and switches it for a worn tank top, “You _are_ the one who told us to be quick.”

“Yes well I have been informed by a certain blond that his romantic interests were smart, so I assumed you would see what I was wearing and decide correctly, but I can see now the man exaggerated,” Yamaguchi’s gaze meets him head on from where he’s sorting through Bokuto’s pants, the man himself hopping around in his underwear and socks behind him. 

“Not that he knows that anymore, with the amount of time he’s been spending with us,” Akaashi says this under their breath, as they pull on one of Tsukishima’s black hoodies. From the way they turn away when the other three face them, they didn’t mean to let that slip out loud.

“Look, I’m not defending him- he’s a fucking asshole- but there is a reason he’s been away so much. And I promise that before this night is over, all of you will know what that reason is,” Yamaguchi has the exasperated tone of someone who has given up fighting with an immovable force, and he stands there, arms akimbo and eyes rolling. 

Tetsurou rolls his own lined eyes as he pulls on a leather jacket, shrugging and gesturing to the doorway.

“Lead the way then, freckles. Show us this _magnificent_ reason for the best disappearing act of the century.”

Yamaguchi watches him with too sharp eyes, seeing the hurt that his words blanket. He sighs and without another word, leads them out of the apartment and into a waiting car.   
  


* * *

They end up at an underground club just off of a busy street in central Tokyo, at just past one in the morning. The lights are dimmed, the bartender is busy, and the patrons are mingling in front of a dark stage. The crowd isn’t overflowing, but it isn’t huge, just the right amount of people to make the room full but not stifling. 

Tetsurou finds his eyes following the patrons as they linger in the doorway, noticing a few people from his own university. He exchanges a few wide eyed and eyebrow raised glances with two fourths of his relationship as they trail after the freckled man.

Yamaguchi shoves four tickets at an attendant stationed at a table by the door and leads them to a table along the wall of the dark room, swiping a ‘Reserved’ sign from the middle as he leaves. The three men left behind look at one another, raising eyebrows, shaking heads and shrugging shoulders. They have no guesses for what is in store for them, and they are tense with anticipation of the unknown as they settle themselves around the small table. 

Yamaguchi returns to the table with drinks for all of them, glaring at them when Bokuto tries to pay him back.

“You think _I_ would buy you drinks? You’re all hot, but not my type thanks. They’re from Tsukki, “as an apology”,” he scoffs, making the quotation gesture in the air before leaning back in the tall chair and sipping his own drink. 

Tetsurou blinks down at the bottle of cider, wishing he wouldn’t blush because the man he was _supposed_ to be mad at remembers his drink order. Bokuto seems to notice this, giving him a sly look as he sips his own drink. Tetsurou wrinkles his nose at him.

“So freckles, are you going to tell us why we’re here yet, or do we just get to sit around twiddling our thumbs?” Bokuto has finally lost his patience, and he leans into the other man's space as he says this, fluttering his eyelashes and almost vibrating with energy. 

Yamaguchi gives him a good smolder and an exaggerated pout that makes Tetsurou burst out laughing. 

“Well you’ll just have to wait for the show, _sweetheart_ ,” and with that, Yamaguchi is sliding off his chair and disappearing into the crowd, throwing a wink over his shoulder. This earns a soft giggle from Akaashi as Bokuto pouts off the way Yamaguchi was heading. Tetsurou watches the other man go, following him with his eyes as he maneuvers easily through the throng. He recognizes the people Yamaguchi stops at, wondering what the heck most of the Karasuno volleyball team is doing _here_ of all places at one in the morning-

And then the lights go out, plunging the room into complete darkness.

The crowd quiets instantly. 

A second later, the sound of a guitar fills the silence, strumming evenly as the stage is lit up from behind. A lone figure is back-lit, and the source of the strumming is illuminated. 

Next comes a light on the other side of the stage, illuminating yet another figure as a bassist joins in on the tune. 

This pattern continues, until there are four figures and an empty dark spot in the middle of the stage. Drums and a keyboard have joined the other two instruments, the rhythm building the tension in the room. The atmosphere changes from calm to excited, a smoke machine in the corner making the figures seem even more imposing as the crowd begins to cheer and clap.

Finally the building tension snaps, the drums crashing it down as a lone spotlight illuminates the middle of the stage. 

A young man, no older than Tetsurou, is standing there in the middle of the lit up stage, tambourine in hand. He opens his mouth, and begins to sing.

Tetsurou can feel himself moving to the music, nodding and bouncing along to the man’s voice and jingling tambourine, but he is still confused. Akaashi is the only one among them to have a real passion for live music, Tetsurou and Bokuto are too high energy to just come to shows and _listen._

And then the crowd goes wild. 

The rest of the spotlights come on just as the guitar and bassist come forward to sing backup, fingers flying over the cords as their voices mingle perfectly with the lead singers.

“ _What the fuck?!_ ” he hears Bokuto exclaim over the noise, and his eyes are drawn to where his partner is straight up pointing towards the stage and to-

“ _Tsukki!_ ”

Tsukishima is standing on the stage, strumming the guitar and moving to the music. He’s wearing one of Tetsurou’s workout tank tops with, so his chest is visible; a flush travelling up from it to his face as he sings into the mic. His long, slender fingers are absolutely _flying_ over the guitar, almost caressing it as he coaxes a deep sound out with ease.

Tetsurou is starstruck, sitting in awe and falling in love all over again with a man on a stage in a dank hole in the wall bar.

He looks over and sees the same feeling reflected back at him in both Bokuto and Akaashi’s eyes. He thinks Bokuto is asking if he even knew Tsukki played the guitar, but he can’t hear him over the sudden noise in the club, and he can’t keep his eyes off his performing partner for more than a few seconds- even if he wanted to.

 _He looks fucking amazing up there_ , he realizes, inhaling so fast its bordering on a gasp. The blond isn’t wearing his glasses and there's no barrier between Tetsurou and Tsukishima’s intense gaze as his face is rigid with concentration. 

Tetsurou feels that intensity low in his gut, curling around his insides and morphing itself into arousal.

 _God_ he loves seeing the other man like this.

Akaashi must see him biting his lip, because they reach out and slap him lightly across his bicep. Tetsurou can only shrug and give the other a sheepish smile, how can he stay mad if he’s hard as hell? Akaashi sighs a long suffering sigh and rolls their eyes to the ceiling.

The band seamlessly transitions into another song, this one with the lead singer on a _xylophone_ instead of a tambourine. _Jack of all trades, huh_.

It’s in the middle of this song that Tsukishima finally sees them. His hands don’t falter, but his voice does; as he smiles a tiny heartbroken smile, his voice cracks to match- like his throat had formed a sudden lump. Tetsurou feels his eyes tearing up in a silent answer, but he refuses to let himself cry _again_. 

Tsukishima finishes the song with his eyes always somewhere on their table, and continues this through the next four or five songs. It makes Tetsurou want to curse him and kiss him in the same breath. He tries to hang on to his anger, he truly does, but it’s very hard when his partner is up there looking like he worked _so hard_ for this night- and finally, his anger slips through his fingers.

After a good few hours on stage, when the light is just starting to pink the horizon, the lead singer moves off to the side of the stage.

He gestures on a stage hand, who brings a stool to his place and then leaves. 

Tsukishima is the one to sit in the stool.

Tetsurou shares a wide eyed look with Akaashi and Bokuto.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming out tonight,” Tsukishima’s smooth voice comes through the microphone, dripping into Tetsurou like the sweetest honey, “For our last song we will be slowing it down a bit. This song is an apology, a love letter, and a confession. It’s also the only original song on our set list tonight, so be nice.” 

Following a chuckle earned from the crowd, Tsukishima’s fingers dance once more over the strings of his guitar as he leans forward and he opens his mouth to sing.

 _God dammit_ , Tetsurou is crying after all.

**Author's Note:**

> :^)
> 
> i might post a continuation with some hot and heavy content, ill just put it as a series tho
> 
> how did you feel?


End file.
